


Sharp Dressed Men

by HandsAcrossTheSea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Sam, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Blowjobs, Bottom Castiel, Car Sex, Come Swapping, Comeplay, Dirty Talk, Foreskin Play, Knotting, M/M, Omega Castiel, Public Sex, Size Kink, Suit Kink, Top Sam, messy sex, mouth knotting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 07:35:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3720466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandsAcrossTheSea/pseuds/HandsAcrossTheSea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It really is the clothes that make the man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sharp Dressed Men

**Author's Note:**

> I have literally no excuse at this point. Really.

Ohio hums under thick Goodyear tires with a comforting sameness, cornfields and small town atmosphere blanketed by an American blue sky that reflects off the dark green, mile long hood of their car.

        Sam’s always loved the Midwest, that heartland feel stirring something vaguely patriotic inside him.  Maybe it’s lingering impulse from his father, spliced into his genetic make-up like something that can’t ever be ignored.  If looked at from a somewhat outlandish point of view, Sam truly has defended his country on many occasions – indeed, the whole world.

        However, he’s never really been out of the country. Maybe someday when there are less villainous beings lurking in the night and he’s sure the place won’t fall apart without him he’ll go, somewhere that’s balmy year round and his only responsibilities include nothing more than devouring a head high stack of thousand page books and drinking exotic teas to his heart’s content.

        It sounds incredible.  Wistful, but incredible.

        They’ve been driving since before dawn, coming northeast up from Deep South, where he and Castiel had spent a week and half mopping up a coven of vampires, stretched between Louisiana and Arkansas; the irony of targeting a Louisiana vamp isn’t lost on him, given Dean’s current association with one.  Hell, it’s that very relationship that had finally made him decide that maybe, just maybe he and Dean needed some time away from each other and he and Benny could do whatever the hell they wanted.  Sam had packed his bags and borrowed a gleaming 1936 Packard Twelve sedan from the Men of Letters motor pool.  It had been nice to choose his own ride, and what better opportunity to show off seventy plus year old engineering to the world than a grand, monster killing tour of the US?

        Sam’s enjoyed immensely the attention he’s gotten; it’s not enough to be uncomfortable, but seeing heads swivel because of him has been a wonderful boost to his self-esteem.  Of course, part of that’s also due to his traveling companion, currently resting or meditating in the passenger’s seat next to him.

        Castiel.

        Cas had been eager to join Sam on his journey, especially since their time together before Purgatory had been scant and coming back hadn’t exactly been a welcoming affair from Dean.  Sam doesn’t think it’s fair, since Dean can so openly flaunt his relationship with Benny and Sam’s relegated to constantly keeping an ear out for his brother when he and Cas want to be intimate.

        Again, a few weeks away from Dean has done a world of good for both of them.

        Castiel stirs, languidly stretching with feline grace as he sits up and opens his eyes.  “I had a thought.”  His voice is raspy from disuse, and it sends a prickle of heat down Sam’s spine; he loves how Cas sounds after he’s been resting.

        Sam removes his right hand from the massive steering wheel and rests it on Cas’s thigh.  “About what?”

        “It’s only a couple days before my heat starts.  Should we find a place to spend it or continue on our journey?”  Castiel hums in muted contentment as Sam scritches at his thigh, the blunt nails as they stimulate him through his slacks making his suit feel a size too small all over.  “I wouldn’t want to endanger either of us because of it.”

        Sam smiles and spares his mate a long glance.  “I don’t think we’d be in any danger.  Haven’t been werewolves in this part of the country for a couple years now.”

        “I don’t think it’s other werewolves we have to be concerned with, Sam.”  Cas spreads his legs with deliberation, inviting Sam to touch more of him should he choose.  While their status as wolf is fairly new (courtesy of a bite in Purgatory that had turned him Omega and by consensual transference, Sam an Alpha) the two heats they’ve ridden out together have been… hectic.  Castiel was animalistic before when he and Sam bumped uglies but now?  He’s insatiable, two supernatural beings stuffed into one making him just this side of dangerous that Sam can’t help but find it to be arousing.

        “And other hunters know about us.  Dean and I, rather – they won’t come near us.”

        “And not ask where Dean is?”  
        “Again, they know us.  It won’t be the first time we haven’t been seen together.”  Sam chases away the acidic flare of anger in his belly by shifting his hand down and up towards Castiel’s crotch, rubbing his palm over the tough muscle of Cas’s inner thigh. 

        “If they knew we were wolves…”  Cas draws a breath, unconcerned for the moment about safety and instead eagerly anticipating what Sam is likely to do in the next two to ten minutes.

        “Then we’d bear our teeth and tell them to go away.”  Sam opens his mouth and let his fangs drop for just a moment, pink tongue caressing the pearly white enamel in such a fashion that Cas has to swallow a moan.  “Simple as that.”

        “I’m surprised you would resort to such force.”  Castiel catches a glimpse of himself in the window; his normally crystal blue eyes are flecked with gold now, the sight of his Alpha’s teeth having started a slight shift.

        “It’s not force – just a warning.”  Sam knows all about asking questions first and trying to avoid shooting; he’s lectured Dean about it until he was almost literally blue in the face more than once.  “Besides, we can hide, no problem.  It’s not like we’re the ‘go out and murder hapless citizens’ kinds of wolves.”

        Castiel absorbs Sam’s justification with half-interest, attention focused on the way Sam’s chest fills out his crisp white button down and the accentuated cut of the dark blue jacket over his shoulders.  Sam’s embraced being an Alpha with alacrity, and dresses like it too; he can’t remember the last time Sam voluntarily wore plaid and jeans just because.  “Then what kind are we?”

        “The super powered kind that save people?  I’m drawing a blank on this one, babe.  We’re our own special case.”  Sam removes his hand from Cas’s leg for a moment to put on the sunglasses he keeps dangling on the rearview mirror, the sun positioned in the sky so that it dazzles off the chrome trim.  Cas’s gaze follows the line of Sam’s arm as he puts them on, his bicep bulging out enticingly as he slides the aviators up his nose.  His thoughts drift to holding onto those muscles in heated passion; Sam still bears the marks where his fingernails dug deeply.

        Sam feels Castiel’s gaze upon him, warmer than even the most direct sunlight.  “Cas?”  Sam glances at his mate out of the corner of his eye.

        “I apologize – my mind was drifting.”  Cas returns Sam’s hand to his thigh.  He starts to move it back and forth, encouraging Sam to rub the strong muscle.

        “I’d ask where but it looks like you’ve already answered that question for me.” Sam grins, turning his palm inwards towards Castiel’s body.  Smooth as silk he cups Cas’s cock and balls, weighty and hot even through the material of his slacks.  Sam wriggles his index finger so that it’s pressed between Cas’s balls, causing them to separate.

        As Sam starts to massage him, Cas draws a short breath.  “Sam, shouldn’t you be paying attention to the road?”  Castiel makes no motion to make Sam stop, his legs spread as wide as he can make them go on the soft leather seat.  Sam’s left hand is firmly clamped on the steering wheel, holding the Packard straight as an arrow.  Considering the car’s primitive power steering, Cas can’t help but hold Sam in awe. 

        Sam chuckles, a low rumble from his chest that kicks Castiel’s heartbeat up.  “I should – but I’ve stared at asphalt all my life. Gets kind of boring, y’know?”

        “And you’ve touched me in an arousing manner several hundred times now – is that not boring?”  By instinct, Cas’s hand is traveling up Sam’s right thigh up to his hip.  The blood rushes through his veins like the Euphrates, mighty and powerful; Castiel can hear and smell it, coursing faster and faster the longer Castiel’s hand lingers on Sam’s body.  He slips lower, across Sam’s flat stomach, feeling the cut of his abs even through his crisp white button down.  Cas wets his lips as he studies Sam’s face for signs indicating he should cease; there’s nothing there, save for a slight pink flush to his cheeks that Cas has come to understand as “keep doing what you’re doing.”

        “You’re a tease today, babe.”  Sam’s words are a little slurry, the only sign that his iron strong focus isn’t entirely on the road before him.  “I like it.”  Sam contradicts his own words by squeezing Cas through his slacks, feeling his mate’s cock thicken even further.

        “I do not intend to be,” Cas stutters.  “I’m simply enjoying the feeling of your body.”

        “We can pull over if you’d like to ‘enjoy’ more than just a feeling.”  Cas can see the lascivious wink behind his sunglasses. 

        “Is that wise, Sam?”

        “Do you think so?”  Sam tries to sway Cas’s decision by reaching for his zipper and tugging it down.  Cas aids him by using his right hand to get his cock out, foreskin pulled down to reveal the shiny head, cotton candy pink and glistening with the damp of precome.  Sam swipes his thumb over the slippery surface and brings it to his lips, sucking it clean.

        It takes Cas a long moment to recapture his train of thought; the sight and idea of Sam’s tongue and mouth savoring his body tends to decimate any chance at articulating something intelligent for at least half a minute.  A further attempt to speak is dashed when Sam replaces his hand on Castiel’s dick, fingers curled appreciatively around his girth as he jerks him off like they were spending a lazy Sunday morning in bed together.

        “You smell incredible, Cas.”  Now it’s Sam’s turn to spin rough hewn words, voice ragged with barely controlled and involuntary reaction.  They jostle Cas out of the small nirvana of Sam’s hand stroking him, forcing him to ask “I do?”

        “Yeah.  You’re wet.”  Before Castiel has a chance to find out for himself, Sam’s fingers are on their way past the bottom of his of his open fly; Castiel doesn’t miss the sound of the fabric straining and tearing as Sam’s enthusiasm outruns any attempt at finesse.  Cas’s attempt at voicing protest ends before it starts, halted by Sam’s long middle finger working its way in between his cheeks and stroking over his hole.

        Castiel feels the wet of his own slick on his skin like liquid fire, hot enough to sear and yet he welcomes the sensation with open arms. Sam spreads the flame, smearing and spreading it around just enough to coat his finger and extract his hand from Cas’s lower body.  Right as he’s about to touch it to his lips again, Cas grabs his wrist.

        “My turn,” Cas rasps, followed by swallowing the whole length of Sam’s finger.  Sam moans, loudly enough to make it seem as though the windows rattle.  He swerves a touch into the other lane, the road still blessedly free of traffic.  He rights the old car as Castiel’s tongue swirls around the tough skin, made tender with feeling by Castiel’s imitations of sucking him off.  Cas seems greedy for the taste of his own body on Sam’s, definitely forbearance if Sam has anything to say about it.

        “Castiel, you gotta…” Sam’s resolve for control finally breaks, his cock now achingly hard. It’s a Sisyphean effort to both drive and not get too distracted by Castiel fellating his finger, never mind his wishing he had a third hand to touch himself. 

“What, Sam?”  Castiel licks the webbing between Sam’s fingers. It’s like every inch of his skin is now electrified, and the damp, hot touch of Cas’s tongue on his flesh makes thunderstorms crackle across his body.

Sam groans again, feeling his blood rush south, quicker than lightning. He can feel his knot swell ever so slightly, unusual given that he’s not inside Castiel’s body.  Perhaps it’s the thrill of moving while Cas touches him, that hint of danger of either being seen or careening off the road.  It pains him to keep his eyes forward, this close to just pulling them over and seeing how quickly they can ruin the upholstery of the back seat.

        “Want your mouth.”

        No beating around the bush today.

        Castiel smiles, uncharacteristically lewd, and crowds into Sam’s space.  “You may have it, Alpha.”  The way Cas croons the word ‘Alpha’ causes Sam’s skin to prickle, goosebumps leaping up like points of starlight, so numerous are they.  Cas gropes Sam’s cock through his pants, sucking on his earlobe in tandem with the semi-smooth motions of his right hand. 

        Sam’s right hand – the same hand that Castiel had had in his mouth but a moment earlier – skims down Castiel’s back, lifting up the back of his suit jacket once he reaches Cas’s waist.  It’s not hard to untuck Cas’s shirt and slip past the waistband of his underwear.  There’s enough room in the Packard’s front seat for Castiel to be able to situate himself so that Sam’s access is fairly unrestricted.

        Still, Sam waits for Castiel’s assent before he does anything save for smooth his fingers over each cheek, drawing close but never touching Cas’s hole.  Castiel hums against Sam’s cheek, fingers working deftly to unzip Sam’s pants.

        “Touch me, Sam,” Castiel urges, and Sam wastes not a moment in complying.  Two fingers slide into Cas’s hole easily, and Castiel groans.  Sam curls them, barely touching his mate’s prostate, causing him to whimper and double his efforts at getting Sam’s cock out.

        “That feel good?,” Sam asks, eyes still looking forward but very much able to see Cas in his peripheral.

        “Deeper,” comes the shaky answer, and Castiel rocks himself back on Sam’s fingers as best he can. He bends his body so that his head is  down between Sam’s stomach and the steering wheel.  Sam shudders at the ghost of Castiel’s hot breath against his cock, his fingers Grace-warmed as he starts to jerk him off.

        “Shit, Cas-“ Sam makes a pointed effort to guide the Packard around a bend and really, he should just pull over but his foot’s glued to the accelerator, and the tip of Cas’s tongue is teasing at his slit.  Sam finds himself mildly surprised that Castiel’s wings aren’t manifested, given that they tend to unfurl when they go hot and heavy.

        Cas kisses up the underside of Sam’s dick, butterfly light but that’s all it really takes – Sam wants more.  He shoves his hips forward, slumping down in the seat a touch so that Cas has an easier time of getting to him. 

        “Sam, you need to-“ Castiel’s voice is lost as the car jerks, the front right side dropping significantly.  Sam yanks his other hand out of Cas’s pants and pushes Cas back up into his seat; he hears the tell-tale whump whump whump of a blown tire, and he stomps on the ancient breaks to bring the three ton car to a halt.  Cas keeps himself braced against the door and dashboard until they’ve come to a stop.

        “Think we lost something.”  Sam zips himself up and clambers out of the car, the front door opening from the rear as he dashes around the long hood and inspects the damage.

        Castiel gets out and joins him, retucking his shirt as he listens to Sam mutter curses under his breath.

        “The good news is it wasn’t anything supernatural trying to kill us.  The bad news is..” Sam bounces up and down on the balls of his feet – “the ground is wet and this is going to be a hell of a mess to accomplish.  You want to get changed so we don’t ruin the power suits?”  Cas listens to the rain soaked earth as Sam makes his point.

        “No, I don’t.  The sooner we’re out of the ditch, the sooner we may resume what this tire” – Cas gestures towards the offending rubber, blown nearly clean off wire-spoked rim – “took away from us.”

        Sam grins, toothy and sparkling white. “You know, it’s not often I hear the words ‘hurry up so we can fuck’ come out of your mouth.”

        “I did not say it like that.”

        “It’s implied, babe.”  Sam reaches for Cas and kisses him, deep and hard.  Cas gives in immediately, his mouth filled with Sam’s tongue and his nostrils with Sam’s scent.  Intoxicating would be a massive understatement, if Castiel had to describe either of them.

        Sam pulls away right as Cas reaches down between them.  “We have a tire to change, remember?”

        Castiel furrows his brow at Sam’s broad shoulders as he watches him go to the external trunk to retrieve the necessary equipment.  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

        Sam shrugs as he inspects the blown tire further.  “Truthfully, I’m not sure.  I’ve only ever changed the tires on the Impala or one of Bobby’s old clunkers – this is a lot of car we’re dealing with here.”

        Cas wets his lips at the sight of Sam’s strong thighs stretching the dark fabric of his trousers as he bends down.  “I could just… lift it.”

        “No, don’t – I want to see how this works for myself.”  Sam straightens and takes his jacket off.  The sunlight nearly makes his white dress shirt translucent, the breeze making it cling to his body.  “Need a jack.”  Sam looks down at himself and adjust his still semi-hard cock, shifting it down to the left.  Castiel watches with devotion as Sam goes around to the back of the car and gathers up the jack, as old as the car itself but definitely rated to lift its heft clear of the ground.  Dean would probably quip about not making them like they used to – but Dean’s taste in automobiles runs more towards horsepower and flash than elegance in the first place.

        Sam stares at the wet ground, frowning at the prospect of having to get up close and personal with it.  He contemplates just how much he can do while sitting on the running board – which isn’t much.  With discontented acceptance, he gets to his knees and shoves the jack under the car just behind the long upward swoop of the fender.

        Castiel watches with interest as the massive automobile lifts a solid six inches clear of the ground, its ponderous weight pushed towards its left side.  Sam’s pulled it over to where the wheels on the left side are still on solid asphalt, lest it become stuck – and Sam isn’t in the mood to push all of that car on completely solid ground.  It’s not fun to do for the Impala, much less something two thirds larger.

        “Hey Cas?”

        Cas, in the meantime, has been observing the proceedings carefully.

        “Yes, Sam?”

        “Could you go and pull the e-brake?  I don’t think we’re going anywhere, but better safe than sorry.”  Sam still has vivid memories of chasing the Impala down a hill once when a similar incident had occurred.

        “Of course.”  Castiel can feel the damp of arousal making his underwear cling to his skin – briefs today, dark blue ones that compliment his eyes – or so Sam had said in the hotel room that morning.  It makes it slightly uncomfortable to walk but Sam’s worth the slight discomfort.  It’s certainly not the first time he and Sam have been caught in the heat of passion and things had gone… awry.

        Cas has an appreciation for fine craftsmanship, and the frontal interior of the Packard is beautifully simple. The dashboard is inlaid with walnut, its centerpiece a large analog clock that ticks silently.  Castiel runs his fingertips over the gentle curve of the steering wheel as well, lingering an extra moment where Sam’s hands had been on it not long before.  Sam’s taught him how to drive, of course, and Cas has put in plenty of time behind the wheel on this trip; it’s simply far more enjoyable to watch and tease Sam.

        Speaking of…

        Cas pulls the e-brake and slides across the seat, the passenger door still wide open.  He’s not heavy enough to shift the car’s weight as he settles on the edge of the seat, his legs hanging out the door.  He notices that Sam’s unbuttoned his shirt halfway down and that sweat is making the fabric cling to the sharply cut planes of his body, patches of skin easily visible on his upper back and shoulders.

        Just in case it’s necessary, Castiel asks “do you need my help Sam?”

        Sam casts his gaze up at his mate, his eyes still burning darkly with desire and his legs spread in unconscious temptation.  Castiel looks sharp today too – he’s able to fully appreciate the cut of his suit, clinging to that lean, powerful body like a glove.

        With a shake of his head that makes the sunbeams bounce off his chestnut locks and a smile, Sam replies “not at all.  You just sit there and look sexy, I’ll have us moving again soon.”  The wink that Sam follows up with makes Cas’s stomach turn a flip.

        “Alright.”  Castiel shifts back, making himself more comfortable.  He contemplates getting one of the novels Sam brought with him from his satchel in the backseat to pass the time, only to decide against it – what he wants is Sam.

        Sam, for his part, is concentrating hard on easing the hubcap off; he doesn’t want to damage it any more than he has to. On the Impala it’s easy – the bolts to unscrew the rim are right there.  Sam feels like he’s trying to break into Fort Knox with the amount of effort he’s having to put in.  It doesn’t help that Castiel looks like pure sex right now, the sweat on his brow making his dark hair stick to his forehead and the heat flushing his cheeks sex pink.

        On top of the blatant “I fucking need you right now” pheromones his body is throwing off – but Sam’s trying hard to not think about those.  He wagers that if he does, the car will end up even further sunk in the mud than it already is.

        Sam reaches up to wipe the sweat from his brow, only to realize too late that he’s got axel grease on his hands.  Castiel watches the dark smear blot skin as Sam does it, then frowning at his own lapse in memory.  Not that it matters much to Cas – Sam being handy is definitely working for him right now.

        “You have grease on your head, Sam” Cas offers.

        Sam ponders throwing the now detached hubcap at him, then decides it’s too heavy should it cause further damage.  “Didn’t I say I didn’t require your help?”

        Cas chuckles, and then sits up.  “Forgive me – sir.”

        The flash of Alpha red in Sam’s eyes doesn’t go unnoticed.

        “Don’t, Castiel.”

        The rumble of warning in Sam’s voice does nothing but goad Castiel further.

        “Sorry, sir.”

        Sam nearly drops his four way, his hazel irises ringed with red.

        Castiel mentally pats himself on the back for making Sam want it that much more.

        Halfway through watching Sam remove the lug nuts holding the wheel on, Castiel removes his own jacket and untucks his shirt. He can feel the sweat dripping down his own back and while it would be nothing to use his Grace to cool himself, he would much rather save it.  That and he’s been relying on it heavily the last few days – vampires don’t go down easy.  Still, it would be nice of him to get out and extend a wing over Sam’s head to cool him.

        Cas stands and unbuttons his shirt all the way down, rolling and stretching his shoulders and legs.  Between riding and Sam being his unfairly attractive self he feels so tightly wound that it’s a wonder he hasn’t yet gone at least slightly insane.  It’d be nice if the werewolf bite had actually let him _be_ a wolf – he could go and run like mad through the corn fields with abandon, get up close and personal with nature.

        Sam’s line of sight can’t help but be drawn up as he stands, Castiel flashing a whispy-dark treasure trail and golden skin right up to his throat.  He raises himself to his full height so that he’s looking down at Cas.  He finishes at Cas’s eyes, bluest blue and so, so beautiful.

        “I know what you’re doing, Cas.”  Sam forgets about their troubles for a few minutes and runs his left hand down the hot plane of Castiel’s chest and stomach.  He traces over the light ridges of his abs, then back up to catch the angel’s chin between his thumb and forefinger.

        “And?”

        “And – it’s not going to work.”  Sam licks Cas’s neck and releases him – reluctantly.  His mate tastes as wonderful as he smells, and the amount of precome his dick is currently leaking into his underwear is plain testament. 

         Castiel doesn’t take no for an answer – he’s going to have Sam, one way or the other.  “Very well.”  Cas returns to the passenger seat and unbuttons his slacks, the waistband and fabric of his underwear peeking out from black material.  Sam swallows when he sees the damp precome darkened patch where the tip of Cas’s cock lays, pointed to the left.  It’s beyond erotic – Cas leaked a lot before but now it’s almost non-stop when he’s horny.

        Still, Sam resumes his task, easing the heavy wheel off of its mount and leaning it against the car.  Cas’s right hand slips into his underwear, his left keeping his shirt open for Sam to admire his body.

        “You’re awful,” Sam says.

        “No, I’m horny.”

        “And since when has that stopped you from taking care of business yourself?”

        “Because I know that you’re also aroused and it’s far more pleasurable when you join me.”  Castiel’s near smugness is irritating in the best kind of way.

        “I can’t knot you out here.  It’s a wonder no one’s stopped yet to see what’s going on.”  Sam gestures at the Packard, big and green and about as inconspicuous as an elephant.

        “There are other options open to us, Sam.”  Cas starts to stroke slower, forcing Sam to concentrate on his knuckles through the blue cotton.

        “Such as?”  Sam dismounts the spare and rolls it to the axle; his shirt and pants are a lost cause, now covered in both mud and grease, not to mention the sweat congealing it all together.  Could be worse, of course.

        “You could probably make me come with just your tongue, Sam.”  Castiel picks his hips up and slides his pants and underwear off, letting them pool on the ground next to the car.  Sam watches, enraptured, as Cas gets out and plants his feet in the grass to present his ass.  “In here.”

        Cas has this very fine dusting of dark hair on his ass, and it gets slightly thicker towards the crevice.  Sam’s heart starts to beat three times faster when he sees how it’s stuck to his skin with slick – and Cas’s hole is almost completely stretched for Sam of its own accord.

        “Fuck,” Sam gasps.  It’s amazing how quickly Cas manages to steal the oxygen from Sam’s lungs sometimes.

        Cas manages to tap just enough Grace so that his wings unfurl for a moment.  He twitches them a couple times, midnight purple-blue and black shimmering in the bright sun.  It’s akin to a peacock attracting its mate – and Sam’s powerless to resist.  Right as he gives up on changing the tire for the time being and he’s reaching for Cas’s wings, they disappear, the air around them hazy for a long second before it returns to normal.

        “Like I said – awful.”  Sam puts his right arm around Castiel’s body and draws him upright.  Cas is pulled flush to Sam’s torso, thrilling at the sensation of Sam’s big hand on his neck to keep him in place.  Sam turns his left hand to reach down and finger Cas’s hole, making his mate jump when he touches his prostate.

        “Alpha, _please_ ” – that ping of nearly overwhelming desperation strikes a chord, and Sam’s on his knees in an instant.  Castiel’s balls hang loosely between his spread legs, and Sam sucks on each one of them, briefly, hardly.  His tongue traces a fast, wet orbit three times around both, and then Sam’s going up, his mouth dragging slow across Castiel’s perineum.

        Cas is shoving his rear back into Sam’s face before Sam’s even at his hole, his thighs shaking as the sweet Canaan of Sam’s tongue finally ends up where he wants it.  Sam doesn’t hold off either, shoving in as deep as he can go.  Cas whines, a deep, tortured if you didn’t know it kind of sound.  He bends over so that his face is planted in the driver’s seat, the same space that Sam’s body has occupied for days and days now.  He breathes in the scent of his body while he holds his ass open, Sam going like clockwork to make him come.

        Sam reaches up and covers Castiel’s hands with his own – he knows instinctually that Cas is this close to hitting his climax.  Gently, he lets his fangs drop and sinks them ever so softly into the skin above Cas’s hole.

        “Sam, you.. fuck, Sam, I’m going to _come_.”  Castiel shakes with each spurt of semen, his shirt plastered to his back with sweat and by the time he’s finished, it’s ruined, covered in come where it splattered back up against him.  It wasn’t nearly as intense of a climax had Sam been inside him but all the same he feels positively drained.

        Sam notices that Cas isn’t moving, practically face down in a puddle of his own spooge.  “You alright babe?”  Sam ignores his own arousal long enough to make sure Cas hasn’t completely expended himself – even though the combined smells of come and naturally produced lube are making that an incredibly difficult chore.

        Cas reaches for Sam’s right hand and squeezes his fingers tight. “I’m fine,” comes the fucked out, muffled response.

        Sam pulls him upright – Cas’s irises are now flecked with yellow-gold, indicating that he’s gone from merely horny to desperate. 

        “I want to please you, Alpha.”  Castiel doesn’t completely sound like himself and before Sam can stop him, Cas has undone Sam’s pants and dropped them to the ground along with his underwear.  The look of marvel on his face is undeniable; Cas is positively salivating at the sight of Sam’s cock, long and heavy with blood, big before but now swelled even larger with that status of Alpha. 

        “Taste me, Cas.”  Sam starts to put his hands on Cas’s head but they’re batted away.  Instead, Cas takes them and makes Sam grip the top edge of the door well, the metal roof hot under Sam’s fingertips.

        “Let me, sir, please.”  Cas is already sliding Sam’s long, loose foreskin back.  He’s looking up with near reverence, his mouth already open and his tongue flashing dark cotton candy pink.  He teases Sam’s frenulum with the tip, tasting the sweet dewdrop of precome beaded at the bottom of Sam’s slit.

        “Fuck,” Sam mouths.  “Cas, babe, don’t stop.”

        Cas answers with a throaty hum – the deep vibration from his vocal chords makes Sam’s footing start to falter.  He’s clinging tightly to the Packard’s roof, white knuckled as he watches his pretty Omega swallow him all the way down.  It’s a beautifully perverse sight; Castiel’s mouth and lips stretch almost unnaturally far, the heavy scent of Omega slick laying over the hot air like a seductive veneer – Sam’s hold on control is fast evaporating. 

        “So fucking soft, babe.”  Sam’s words spill like rain drops over Cas’s skin – welcome and relieving.  Castiel’s mouth and lips are downy soft, his lips just plush enough that Sam can’t decide if he wants Castiel to blow him to kingdom come or if he wants to kiss him until they’ve starved themselves of breath.

        Castiel pushes deeper, aware of just how close the girth of Sam’s cock is to choking him.  Not that he’s worried of course, but the human parts of him still enjoy the act of breathing.  He moves his head so that the top part of his throat is catching and sliding on the thick ridge of Sam’s glans, pleased with himself when he hears Sam scratch at the roof in reflex.

        Sam bites his lip until it’s blood-red, the same color as a ruby.  Cas looks up again, his jaw straining as Sam’s knot starts to force his lips even further apart.  He can’t take it all in his mouth, but he can take enough – he slips the fingers of his left hand into Sam’s mouth.  Sam’s tongue does a fast dance over each of them, coursing sensation down Cas’s arm and through his body.  Cas moans again, his eyes watering as Sam’s knot swells even larger.

        “Cas, I’m… my knot…”

        “Do it, Sam.”  Cas pulls off and then goes right back down.

        Sam clamps down on his scream as he fucks his hips forward into Cas’s mouth and his knot makes every nerve in Cas’s head groan with the strain.  Cas holds himself forward, his right arm wrapped around Sam’s waist as to not break them apart.  His fingernails dig hard into Sam’s hip, drawing blood to the surface.  Later Cas will see he left finger prints in it, speckled across Sam’s thigh and hip like evidence of a crime of passion. 

        Cas is braced for Sam’s orgasm, almost timing it so that Sam’s cock is pointed right down his throat as he comes.   The first three spurts of come nearly choke him, and Sam manages to pull so hard on the car that it makes the jack drop halfway down and topple them to the ground.  Sam lands in mud and slides a couple feet before Cas joins him, his cock still pulsing with come.  Cas doesn’t miss a beat and puts it right back in his mouth, his knees and hands dug into the ground around Sam’s body.

        It’s earthy, literally – and the combination of Sam and spunk and fresh dirt hit Cas so hard that he comes untouched, afraid of losing his balance on the already unstable ground.  Sam holds him though, his knot swollen just past Castiel’s lips until he’s finished.  With an almighty groan, he lays still on the ground and pulls Cas up to him.

        Sam smiles without opening his eyes, satisfied for the moment and completely unwilling to cover himself.  “Fuck.”

        Cas grins and kisses his mate, letting him taste himself.  Sam’s long legs wrap around his body like vines, rubbing his naked lower body against Cas’s as he does. His spunk and spit make shimmery trails between their lips, Sam all hands as he rubs Cas’s back until their cheeks and mouths are damp from it.

        “Agreed,” Cas slurs.  He considers helping Sam up from the mud but that means he’d have to move as well – and that’s not a happy prospect.

        “Someone’s gonna see us.”  Sam’s voice is low and rumbly like summertime thunder.

        “And?”  
        “And we can’t get arrested for public indecency.  It’s a wonder no one’s seen us yet.”  Off in the distance like fate, Sam hears a truck horn.  “C’mon.”  He reluctantly pushes Cas off of him and gets to his feet, knees shaking with the effort.

        “We’re filthy.”  Castiel’s covered in spooge and mud pretty much everywhere there’s visible skin.

        “Damn right we are.”  Sam finds his pants and pulls them up but leaves his shirt undone.

        “No, literally.  We can’t drive around like this.  I also believe our suits are ruined.”

        Sam inspects himself, and finds that Cas is unfortunately correct.  “And all of our other clothes are covered in vamp gore.”

        “We could always stop at a laundromat.”

        “I don’t think that’s going to help us.”  Sam leans against the Packard’s fender while he thinks, then jumps up when the car sinks a little lower.  “And we still have a flat tire to deal with.”

        “Let’s solve that first.”  Figuring it’s a lost cause anyway, Cas removes his soiled shirt and uses it to mop up the come still cooling on the front seat.

        “Yeah.”  Sam makes short work of changing the tire out finally, wrestling the heavy, damaged one onto the spare mount and strapping it down while Cas looks for something to at least wipe their faces off with. 

        “We could get new suits.  I’m sure there’s somewhere in the next town that could assist us.”

        “New suits, huh?”  Sam ponders for a moment; it’s not a bad idea, and the big wad of cash they have would almost certainly stop any questions that might be asked.  “We could do that.”

        “But we still need clothes, Sam.”  Castiel has his pants back on but remains shirtless, much to Sam’s delight.

        “Need being a negotiable term.”  Sam walks over to where Cas is leaning against the car and runs his fingers over his hipbones.  “These clothes are already ruined, and my knot’s still not gone all the way down…”

        The offer is incredibly tempting, but their luck, Cas feels, is running out.  “I think we should resume traveling and then at the very first opportunity find a room.”  The glint of eagerness in Cas’s eyes isn’t lost on Sam.

        “Yeah.”  Sam steals another kiss, less fervent than before but still enough to make Castiel melt.  Cas cups Sam’s face with grass stained fingers, leaving green smudges on his cheeks.

        They aren’t far from Akron, and by the time they pull up Cas has managed to wipe them both down enough so that they aren’t completely unpresentable.  Sam’s wearing a black tank top he’d forgotten he’d packed and Cas is wearing an undershirt that isn’t too dirty – presentable enough to get them into a place where they can buy new threads.

        All eyes are on them as they roll into Akron, between the Art Deco styling of the Packard and Sam’s guns on display for all the world to ogle.  Castiel keeps a possessive hand on his Alpha’s right thigh as they cruise, Sam’s lips curled in a self-satisfied smile. 

        “What kind of suit do you want,” Sam inquires.  They’ve passed two or three shops, most of which look like you need an appointment to get into.  “Don’t think we quite have time for a tailor but there are plenty of off the rack places.”

        “I’d prefer you to wear nothing at all, to be perfectly frank.”  Cas’s plainspoken idea is touching, in a blunt way.

        “Soon, babe – but we have to have suits if we’re gonna be on the road for a couple more weeks.”  Sam picks up his hand and kisses each finger before he puts it back between his spread legs; if touching his dick will pacify Castiel, then Sam’s not going to protest.

        Cas cups Sam’s balls and scoots a little closer.  “Perhaps something blue.”

        “Navy.”

        “Or gray?”

        “Both.”  Sam finally sees a store that he has a hunch will have exactly what it is they’re seeking.

        Outside, the shop is unassuming, with dark green lettering against a tan backing that says “Remy’s Fine Gentleman’s Clothes.”  Whether “Fine” is indicative of the gentleman or the clothes, they’ll have to find out.  Noticing that the other cars in the parking lot are of a luxurious brand and the patrons inside are impeccably dressed, Sam guesses that it applies to both.

        Stepping through the doors is like entering a time warp – they may have just entered a Thackeray novel.  The place is done in dark tones and hardwood floors.  Shoes shine gaily as they clack across the surface, the rustle of suit bags a dim accompaniment to salesman making suggestions.

        “Do you suddenly feel way, way underdressed, Cas?”

        Cas looks down unhappily at his body.  “Yes.”

        They’re approached by a portly gentleman with Martin van Buren sideburns and a gold watch chain, hanging across his prosperity fed stomach like the headlamp of a stout locomotive.  He holds out his pin-stripe clad arms in a gesture of genuine welcome to the both of them.  “I take it that you gents need a suit?”

        Sam nods and on impulse, offers to shake the man’s hand.  “I’m afraid we do.”

        “Then you’ve come to the right place.  I’m Remy Hoover Stepfield III – welcome.”  He steps aside and gestures to the store around him.  “Tell me – what are you looking for?”

        Sam relays the story of how their clothes were ruined in the first place – omitting, of course, he and Castiel’s carnal activities.  “Something tough, I suppose.  We’re gonna be on the road for a couple more weeks yet.”  
        Remy nods.  “I think I have just the thing – you’ll want to see our sportsman line.  Marcus?”

        Castiel watches as a man who could very easily be Remy’s brother approaches from the left.  “What may I do for you gentleman?”

        “They’d like to see the sportsman line, Marcus.  I’m sure you can accommodate them?”

        Marcus gives a tiny bow and indicates for them to follow.  “It’s not often our clients come in literally needing our assistance dressing – but we are here to serve, all the same.”  Marcus seems just a touch condescending, but Cas doesn’t miss the touch of desire in his eyes every time he glances at Sam.

        “We already know our measurements,” Cas says with slightly gritted teeth.  He’s not relishing the idea of someone else touching Sam right now, especially since it’s already taking every ounce of willpower to not wrestle Sam to the ground and sit on his dick right where everyone would get more than an eyeful.

        Marcus smiles like they’ve just told him some big secret.  “Of course.”  He leads them to the far corner of the store, the mannequins dressed like spies or yachtsman – hard wearing yet fashionable indeed.  “Should you require it of course, I will assist you.”  He starts to shuffle away but then turns back to them.  “And please – place all items back on the hangar if you try them on.”

        Castiel watches his back as he returns to the front of the store.  “I do not like that man.”

        Sam chuckles and kisses Cas on the side of the head.  “He’s not gonna do anything to us, Cas.  Relax, and let’s see if Remy’s clothes are as fine as the rest of his establishment.

        To ensure that nothing that might get them in trouble happens, they decide to use separate dressing rooms.  Of course, it doesn’t stop them from touching each other as they select items from the racks, nor does it discourage them from kissing each other just inside the entryway to where the dressing rooms are; Sam can smell it on Cas, that pre-heat rush of pheromones that make him positively irresistible.  It’s going to be hard to dress himself when Cas is just on the other side of the wall mostly naked.

        “I’m ready,” Cas calls after about ten minutes.  He’d spent most of that time contemplating fingering himself and leaving Marcus to clean up the mess when he came all over the wall.  Instead, he’d put on the clothes he’d selected, a crisp French blue button down with a black jacket and pants, slender cut all over and pulled tight against his waist.  It’s all accented with an iridescent blue-black tie, hand woven silk.  A corresponding suit in gray hangs on the wall next to him.

        Castiel doesn’t normally apply the word to himself, but he looks _hot._

        “Be right out, babe.”  Cas listens to Sam zip up his pants, followed by the squeak of the door opening.  Cas steps out at the same time, and is greeted by a sight that nearly floors him.

        Sam’s dressed in tan, close to the color of his skin, light blue Oxford shirt peeking out from under the buttoned jacket. The fabric hugs his legs tight, just like Cas’s, and Cas swears he can see the bulge of Sam’s dick through them.  He’s not wearing a tie, instead holding two up for Cas to choose from – except Castiel’s gaze isn’t drawn to them. He’s far more taken with how magnificent Sam’s shoulders and chest look, straining against the fabric like it’s all too much for it to contain.

        “Cas?”

        “I um…. Sam, you look wonderful.”  Castiel’s throat goes dry as a desert.  He’s not helped by the fact he’s started to leak again, and Sam definitely picks up on the scent.

        “Thank you – you look pretty damn good yourself, babe.”  Sam’s got a hungry look in his eyes, and the red in his irises is doing little to stop Cas from jumping him.

        “Sam?”

        “May I… see you closer?”  Cas is already pulling him by the shirt back into the dressing room.

        Before Sam can answer, Cas has him up against the door, kissing him so hard that their teeth are mashed together.  Sam grabs Cas under his thighs and lifts, placing him against his body and then heading towards the far wall.  It shakes a little when Sam pressed him to it, obviously not designed to withstand the veritable forces of nature that they’ve become.  All the same, Sam could care less if the whole damned place came down on top of them – he needs Castiel _now_.

        Cas is doing his best to get Sam’s dick out and his own pants off while suspended in the air, and it’s not going well.  Collecting his sanity for just a moment, he lets go of Sam and nearly tears his new pants off.

        “Guess you like the suit, huh?” Sam’s going as fast as he can to make himself naked from the waist down.

        “You look powerful in it, sir.”  Cas is shaking hard with need, and Sam spins him around just as soon as enough of Castiel’s ass is out for him to work with. 

Sam spins him around and gathers up both hands, holding Cas effectively still.  “I am, Cas.  Would you like me to show you?”

        “Yes, sir, please.”  Cas is doing his best to rub his naked ass against Sam, only to have his palms pressed flat againt the wall.  Sam bites down on the side of his neck to hold him in place while he uses his other hand to drag the tip of his cock over Cas’s wet hole.

        “Good boy.”  Sam whispers the words in Cas’s ear, sultry and growling.  Cas’s knees give that much further, and Sam uses that to bend him down just a little more.

        Cas starts to moan, only for Sam’s hand to clamp firmly over his mouth.  His world comes apart as Sam’s cock fills him, curving right in and hitting his prostate.

        “Gotta stay quiet, babe.  Wouldn’t want Marcus to see me fucking your pretty little ass, would we?”  Sam starts to move, each syllable whispered right into Cas’s ear.  He feels his spine turn to liquid, the fabric of his new clothes already starting to stick with sweat; they’re definitely going to have to buy these even if they didn’t want them.

        Sam grinds slowly while he keeps talking.  “Can’t wait to fill your ass up, babe. Gonna look so fucking good with my come dripping out of you.  Wanna keep you fucking filled for a week, Cas, shit.”  Sam kisses Cas’s neck, barely there touches of his lips that make Cas’s eyes drop shut.

        Sam feels his knot swell, faster than before.  He gets a little more urgent, wrinkling both he and Cas’s clothes; if they make Cas this horny, Sam may just buy six of them to keep Castiel permanently distracted. 

        Cas grinds back, aching to touch his cock.  He’s dripping precome in a steady stream right on down to the floor, the backs of his thighs coated with his own lube.  He’s sure someone’s heard them by now, if Sam’s increasingly frantic thrusts are anything to go by.  His body’s on fire, clothes too tight and cloying but he can’t move, not now, not when he can feel Sam’s knot pushing him apart.

        “Can you keep your hands to yourself, Cas?”  Sam knows Cas needs release badly, can feel the muscles tightening around him where he’s buried balls deep.

        Cas nods, and Sam releases his wrists.  He reaches down and grips his mate’s cock, stroking so slowly that Cas’s entire world collapses in to the tight ring of Sam’s fist.  Sam jerks him as far as Cas’s foreskin will comfortably go and then pulls back, giving Cas the double sensation of his knot and hand at the same time.

        Sam sucks a mark into Cas’s neck, licking the sweat where it’s dripping down his back and staining his shirt.  “That feel good baby?  My big fucking knot and my hand on you?”  Sam strokes him again, faster, just as tight – Cas bites Sam’s palm to keep from screaming.

        “Yeah, that’s it baby,” Sam continues, unable to barely move now that his knot is at full size and keeping he and Cas sealed together.  “Fucking love my knot filling you up, don’t you?”

        Cas nods, this close to orgasm and along with it, likely unconsciousness.

        Sam removes his hand from Cas’s mouth.  “Say it Cas, want to hear you.”

        “Love… love your knot, Sam.  Love how it fills me up and.. fuck, Sam.. stretches me.”  Castiel has to coax the words out.  Sam’s making it awfully hard to articulate properly – but that’s not an uncommon occurrence even when they aren’t locked in the heat of passion.

        “Yeah, babe, that’s it.”  Sam turns Cas’s head for a kiss, sliding his tongue against Cas’s before they’ve even closed the gap.  Cas comes as soon as Sam’s lips touch his, shooting all over his discarded undershirt; what it doesn’t catch he’ll lick up and share with Sam.

        Sam bites down on Cas’s lip, his orgasm tightening his body until it subsides, knowing he only has a couple minutes before the next one starts.  It’s searing, cleaving him down to his bones and then stitching him back together inside out.  He knows they’ve made an enormous mess too, given how it’s now a little harder to keep his knot pushed so far in; Cas is so wet that it’s entirely likely that Sam will slip out before they’re done.

        “Is everything alright in there?”  Marcus’s voice makes Sam jump so high that he jerks both he and Cas upright.

        “Yeah – we’re fine.”  Sam collects himself enough to sound a semblance of normality.  “We’ll take the suits, too.  Mind if we wear them out?”

        Castiel clenches _hard_ on Sam’s dick and starts to resent good customer service to no end.

        “No – not at all.  Whenever you’re ready, gentleman.”

        Castiel reaches back for another kiss, rasping “don’t think that’s going to be for a while yet.”

        Sam grabs Castiel’s cock again.

        “Not at all.”


End file.
